Taylor Swift’s ‘Life Of A Showgirl’ Album Review

After months of anticipation, the curtain has finally been pulled back to reveal Taylor Swift’s “The Life of a Showgirl.”

The album arrived on Friday at midnight, delivering upbeat-sounding songs with lyrics that will fuel fierce internet debates for a few weeks. There are pop star beefs, sweet odes to falling in love, meditations on fame and references to Travis Kelce’s “magic wand.” (Yes, that’s right.) The singer has left behind the obsession and sprawl of “The Tortured Poets Department” in favor of 12 shimmery tracks that clock in at a tight 42 minutes.

Swift first announced the new album was coming in August, joining her now-fiancé, Travis Kelce, on his “New Heights” podcast with his brother, Jason Kelce, to reveal the album artwork and discuss her latest era.

The singer said the album reflected what she “was going through offstage” while performing on her record-breaking Eras Tour in 2023 and 2024. After frequently collaborating with Jack Antonoff and Aaron Dessner on her albums since 2020, Swift decided to team up once again with producers and songwriters Max Martin and Shellback, who worked with her on parts of previous albums “Red,” “1989” and “Reputation.”

“I wanted the album to feel the way my life felt,” she said on the podcast, later adding, “My main goals were melodies that were so infectious that you’re almost angry at it, and lyrics that were just as vivid but crisp and focused and completely intentional.”

With any Swift album release comes a flurry of quickly dashed-off reactions, each trying to have the earliest, most definitive word on what Swift is trying to say this time and how well she executes it. It’s a tricky task. First impressions often prove finicky; some of Taylor’s tracks just need time to fully rise like a well-kneaded loaf of Funfetti sourdough.

But there’s no time for that. This is show business, after all — so here are our hot first takes on the highs, lows and lyrics of “The Life of a Showgirl.”

Alexandra: In the opening track, Swift invokes Shakespeare with a Hamlet allusion. She sings about being saved from the fate of Ophelia, a character who loses her mind and kills herself after being spurned by her potential husband. It’s a loose comparison, and with lyrics like, “You dug me out of my grave and/ Saved my heart from the fate of Ophelia/ Keep it one hundred on the land, the sea, and the sky/ Pledge allegiance to your hands, your team, your vibe,” I suppose the person who saved her from insanity is Travis Kelce.

As far as her opening tracks go, this one is fine and sets the tone for what is to come sonically and lyrically.

Jillian: “Pledge allegiance” reminded me of “Salute to me, I’m your American queen” from “King of my Heart” and made me nostalgic for “Reputation.” But we’re in a different era! And this does feel like a fitting track to transition from “The Tortured Poets Department” to “The Life of a Showgirl” — “And if you’d never come for me/ I might’ve drowned in the melancholy,” she sings. We’d still be down bad, cryin’ at the gym, if Travis hadn’t raved about the Eras Tour on his podcast.

A: This song on the album feels the most reminiscent of Swift’s previous work with Max Martin and Shellback, and not just because she previously referenced Elizabeth Taylor on “…Ready for it?” (on the album “Reputation,” also produced by Martin and Shellback). I also think it’s the most fun and interesting of any songs on the album, with a feisty chorus track that feels reminiscent of “Reputation.” Again, Swift’s pop culture references are muddy – she kind of throws Taylor’s name in haphazardly, mostly just using her as a comparison of their eye colors, I guess?

J: “Cry my eyes violet” in the chorus intrigues me, recalling the line “My knuckles were bruised like violets” from Swift’s song “The Great War.” Here, Swift is drawing comparisons between herself and the actor who famously married seven times. She’s believed she had forever with someone before, and wants to know if it’s for real this time, knowing how she’ll be perceived if it ends.

A: This song is more or less just “Bejeweled” part two, sonically and energetically. Swift writes about coming out on the other side of the trials and tribulations of dating to an “opalite sky.” It does what she wanted the song to do, but it does feel like a rinsed and recycled version of something that she has written before.

J: “I had a bad habit of missing lovers past/ My brother used to call it/ Eating out of the trash.” OK, Austin Swift, I didn’t know you had bite like that! (Also, why did this line make me wish for a concept album told from the perspective of a raccoon?) This was the first song that grabbed me on my initial listen of the album. It’s breezy, it’s dance-y, it’s opalite. It’s not revolutionary, but it’s fun.

A: With the resurgence of George Michael’s “Father Figure” in 2024, due to the movie “Babygirl,” Swift capitalizes on the timeliness with an interpolation on her own album. She sings of acting as a father figure to an up-and-coming artist who ultimately betrays her. Her habit of brusque lyricism continues as she states, “I’ll be your father figure/ I drink that brown liquor/ I can make deals with the devil because my dick’s bigger,” which ultimately evolves into “I was your father figure/ We drank that brown liquor/ You made a deal with this devil, turns out my dick’s bigger” later in the song.

In what seems like the first of two songs on this album that punches down at other female singers, this one is seemingly aimed at Olivia Rodrigo, who was once taken in by Swift before their relationship appeared to quickly sour. If true, it’s a strange look for a 35-year-old Swift to brag that a 22-year-old Rodrigo will be “sleeping with the fishes before you know you’re drownin’.”

J: Oh, I was READY for this one after I saw George Michael on the writing credits. And … this ended up falling kind of flat for me. It’s an interesting, creative exercise for Swift, fashioning herself as a kind of mob boss, but I don’t know if this one had to leave the drafts. Maybe this is a natural evolution of the ideas she sang about in “The Man” back in 2019 — she has all of the power and swagger she dreamed of, but it’s turned her vindictive. The reactions I’ve scanned seem fairly split on who it could be referencing — is it Rodrigo? Or maybe Scott Borchetta, the record label CEO who wouldn’t sell Swift her masters? The instrumentation here is interesting, at least. This is one I could see myself coming around to just because it won’t get out of my head.

J: “Everybody’s so punk on the internet,” Swift croons on the opening line of this more toned-down piano track. It always feels out of place to me when she references internet lingo in songs, like catching a Starbucks cup in a shot of a period drama on TV, and this song is chock full of it.

It’s also an odd choice to start off the song listing all her laments about modern vernacular and interaction, but hang her hat on the term “eldest daughter,” which feels very 2025 online discourse. She plays with some intriguing ideas — ”I have been afflicted by a terminal uniqueness,” for one — but there isn’t enough scaffolding to hold them up here.

A: I was scared this song would be bad PR for eldest daughters (as one myself), but it turns out it’s barely about eldest daughters at all! Track 5 on Swift’s albums tends to be important and impressive songs on her albums, an emotional catharsis or storytelling at its peak. Imagine my surprise when this track 5 turned out to be a static piano ballad about overcoming the odds of being bullied on the internet, featuring the real lyric “But I’m not a bad bitch, and this isn’t savage.”

J: Swift takes us back to high school again, singing about a crush she never acted on. For me, this has one of the catchier hooks of the album — ”should’ve kissed you anyway” — as she conjures images of prom and teenage worries. The production feels so odd to me throughout this album on the first few listens — it feels safe and formulaic in a lot of places, like the first idea an AI would spit out when you ask it for a beat. Am I missing Jack Antonoff’s influence? But despite that, I think I’ll be returning to this one.

A: In objectively messy guidance, Swift writes in this song: “My advice is to always ruin the friendship / Better than regret it for all time.” It reminds me of “So High School” on “The Tortured Poets Department” or “Timeless” on “Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)” — in this era of her life, Swift seems especially nostalgic, lamenting about lost love. It’s an interesting track to include in an album that mostly focuses on finding the love of her life.

J: Taylor Swift has often used her pen to bite back at her bullies, doing it most successfully when she playfully admonished a dismissive critic on “Mean.” Her celebrity-beef oeuvre, though, has not won me over as much, and I’m afraid I have to add this one to that list. Messy drama aside, the thing that drove me crazy in this song was her tentative, muddled singing of “It’s making me wet” on the bridge. If you’re gonna put that line in an album, say it with your chest. Swift has thrown meat to an insatiable discourse machine with this song; I can already see the miles of headlines this one will generate. I’m just left thinking about the Swift of several years ago who presciently lamented, “All of my enemies/ started out friends.”

A: The day before the release, I saw a leak of these lyrics on Twitter and thought, “There’s no way.” Turns out, it was real. In this alleged response to Charli XCX’s “Sympathy is a knife,” Swift snarkily sings about supposedly living in Charli’s head rent-free. But is there not irony in writing, recording, and producing an entire song about another girl’s obsession with talking about you? Swift tries to assert her unbotheredness, but in the end, she comes off petty.

This response is strange, considering “Sympathy is a knife” is more about Charli’s internal landscape and how the object of her song makes her feel. Whereas Swift’s “Actually Romantic” is a direct barb, giving off the mean girl behavior she is trying to criticize.

J: What do you get the girl who has everything? A basketball hoop in a driveway, I guess. There are some parts that work here — the cadence she uses on the line “Boss up, settle down, got a wish list” is satisfying, and I kind of love when she sings, “I made wishes on all of the stars/ Please, God, bring me a best friend who is hot,” because same, girl. But it’s a little bit hard to swallow that a billionaire isn’t also seduced by the trappings of wealth she lists off in these lyrics. You’re telling me there isn’t a single pair of Balenci’ shades in a closet in one of her many properties?

A: I continue to be fascinated by the abnormal title stylings she includes for a couple of tracks on her recent albums. In this “I’m not like other girls” track, she asserts that while others might seek material objects and prestigious awards, she just wants to live a quiet life with her love. This would be a believable story if Swift was not a billionaire who cash grabs with exclusive records, merch and an expensive tour. It’s OK to want those things! But it’s disingenuous to keep pushing this narrative of craving simplicity when her life is consistently antithetical to that claim.

A: Perhaps a sign of naivete from me, but the implication of this song went fully over my head upon first listen. I truly can’t wrap my mind around the fact that the biggest pop star in the world references her football fiance’s bro-ey podcast by name in the lyrics of this song — and then refers to his dick as a “Redwood tree.” Genuinely, what is going on?

J: I think this is a song that will grow on me once I get over the fact that there’s a full track about how incredible Travis’ dick is on this album. The Jackson 5-esque styling isn’t my favorite, either, but I do think the concept is cute: all of the superstitions and talismans you hope will bring you luck don’t matter when you find the person who’s right for you.

J: OK, this is one song I can picture as a big, dramatic production on a stadium stage — which is fun! I honestly hoped this whole album would be full of huge, bombastic bangers, and at this point in the album, there hasn’t been a ton. It’s fun and campy in the vein of “Vigilante Shit.” I wish, though, there was an actual grappling with the idea of cancel culture, and how so often the public figures at the center of it end up having successful careers regardless of anything they’ve done. It’s definitely a choice to side with the canceled on this one.

A: As Jill has mentioned with other songs on this album, I’m in complete agreement with how the titles of these songs feel at odds with the content of the songs. I do think these are purposeful mind games on her part, trying to throw people off the scent (since she releases the track titles before the album), but the contrast feels particularly off in “The Life of a Showgirl.” In what I assumed would be a lament of her critics, Swift instead writes a song in which she condemns cancel culture as a whole. It feels strangely reflective of our political climate that one of the biggest voices in music sings about enjoying being friends with people who have been “canceled.” Cancellation is a spectrum, and by supporting those who have been canceled as an abstract concept, it comes off that she sides with those who have been canceled for very legitimate reasons.

J: On this song, Swift plays with the idea of being called “honey” and “sweetheart,” and how often they’re used patronizingly — until someone comes along and changes the meaning of it all. “You can call me honey if you want, because I’m the one you want,” she sings over lilting piano and a somewhat-basic drum beat. There was a moment in the middle of this song where I had to pause and rewind to confirm that I was indeed hearing a clarinet and flute — justice for the high school band woodwind girlies!

A: I do like the subversion of this song, taking back a word that has been weaponized against her. Melodically, the song is very simple — overall, in listening to this album, I was struck by how basic the music is consistently throughout. I know she’s capable of more!

J: If there’s one thing Swift loves to write songs about, it’s that fame isn’t all it’s cracked up to be — and yet she’s forever caught in it now. There are some evocative images here — the showgirl character comes out of the stage door “glowing like the end of a cigarette” and warns the girl fawning over her that she’s “softer than a kitten” and couldn’t handle the showbiz life. It’s fun, and Sabrina Carpenter sounds fantastic on this track (though her presence does just make me think of how much hookier I found “Man’s Best Friend” when it first came out). And I know you can take creative liberties in songwriting, but I have to point this out because Swift called herself an English teacher on Instagram — what is “legitly”?

A: In the title track, Swift (with help from Carpenter) invents a character of a seasoned showgirl who teaches Swift the reality of what it means to be in the spotlight. It definitely is the most theatrical-sounding song, which is what I wanted more of from this album. Carpenter offers the most interesting and powerful vocals on the entire album, which really puts into perspective how shockingly simple Swift sounds in her own songs. I’m not sure why Swift chose a theatrically themed album to present quieter and breathier vocals, but it doesn’t quite work.

A: I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from this one — I had complicated feelings about “The Tortured Poets Department” and I feel kind of perplexed about “The Life of a Showgirl.” I don’t think it’s offering anything new or different to Swift’s discography, and I wonder if that’s a product of churning out work on the heels of a huge tour and album release just last year. There’s no pressure to be releasing new work in the midst of her already busy life, and I think her vision is getting muddled as a result. I don’t know what Swift wanted to portray in this album, and I don’t really think she knows either.

J: This album is making me realize I’m more comfortable with a Swift who tells us everything she feels, obsessively and messily and slightly unhinged — part of why “The Tortured Poets Department” drew me in, or why songs like “Mastermind” or “Mirrorball” are among my favorites in her catalog. I feel a bit held at a distance when I listen to “The Life of a Showgirl.” She’s not pulling back the curtain so much as distracting us with feathers and sparkle. She’s in a happy relationship, and she wants to protect it (but also tell us she’s “ahh-matized” — go girl). I think these songs will grow on me, as Swift’s always do, but I don’t think it’s likely to snatch the crown of “Folklore” or “Reputation” and be one of my top albums. And maybe it wasn’t meant to. If nothing else, I’m grateful to have more of her songs to pore over and dissect.